15 Minutes
by KatyRye
Summary: Sara Sidle meets the 11th doctor and the weeping angels. Grissom has met his intellectual match. The Doctor helps Sara Sidle enjoy life a little more. Around season 5 or 6 of CSI. Forensics, Physics, and Fun. GSR
1. Chapter 1

**For Mary:**

**We've been through a lot and we'll go through a lot more. Your friendship means more to me than life and CSI… which to me is kind of the same thing. Have the happiest birthday. This is written in chapters and I hope you like it. I love you to the moon and back.**

**I love you more than cheetiz and cheerios and frosting-less pop-tarts.**

**Thanks to Deb for helping me proof read.**

~00~

"_I'll be the grandma," Jessica, the oldest child in the house, said as she took her place by the fence. "You guys be the children."_

_The name of the game was 'Grandma's footsteps', and it was a favorite of the youngsters. They would play it every day when the bus dropped them off. The only child that did not participate was the newest arrival at the home: Sara Sidle. _

_Sara had been brought in only a few weeks ago and had yet to socialize with anybody. The other children were curious about her and had asked her numerous questions about her parents, but the little girl remained quiet. Most days she sat to the side and read while the others played. _

"_Why don't you go and join them?" the house mother said, taking a seat beside the little brunette. _

_Sara just shook her head. "I just want to read," she said, turning her attention back to Charlotte and her web._

_The book was taken from her hand gently and set to the side. Sara looked up at the woman who was now her guardian. Though the smile on her face was kind, Sara was not ready to interact. _

"_Come and play," Jessica called. _

_Sara nodded and stood slowly. Not because she was ready, but because she saw that she had no choice. As she walked over to the group of playing children she thought about how cruel life could be. _

~~00~~

Sara set down her silver kit and studied the concrete figure in front of her. The statue was in the form of a mourning guardian angel that was typically found in graveyards. Its hands were open-palmed and placed over its face. She turned and glanced at the mirror-paneled walls. Reflective glass had been professionally glued in place, providing a panoramic view.

The statue had been found locked in a high security vault at the prestigious Hotel Manaco. The vault was usually patrolled by round-the-clock surveillance but, nobody on the staff could explain what became of the four night watchmen. The only sign that men had been present was a half-eaten lunch and a black mag-light. The light had been found alongside a back wall underneath a shelf that housed other artifacts. It had been photographed, bagged, labeled, and sent back to the lab for processing.

"Who would take the time to customize these walls?" Sara asked, snapping on a pair of gloves and walking over to look at the remains of the half-eaten lunch.

Nick walked over to one of the mirrored walls and knocked on it. "It's not a cheap job," he said. "You say there were four grown men in here?"

Sara looked down at her clipboard once more. "Yeah, they signed in two days ago," she explained, pulling out her camera to take a photograph. "And they never signed out. One of the men had a second job and he never showed up."

Nick arched his eyebrows. "Is there an air vent?" he asked, looking up.

Sara followed his line of sight, but the ceiling was smooth. There was an air duct along the base boards, but it was too small for her to fit through, much less a man. Hearing footsteps she turned to see Gil Grissom walk in. Quickly she turned back to her work.

"What do you make of this?" Nick asked him.

Grissom shrugged. "What the eyes see and ears hear, the mind believes," he quoted.

"Harry Houdini," Sara said without turning.

"Very good," he said to her. "Since there is no was in or out of this room, the answer is here."

"Did you check the eye-in-the-sky?" Nick asked.

Grissom nodded. "I did, but no one entered or exited the vault since the men began their shift," he answered.

"Do you suggest that they just vanished?" Sara asked and then pointed her thumb towards the angel statue. "Or that our friend witnessed all this?"

Nick whistled a few notes from _The Twilight Zone _theme. "Freaky stuff," he said.

~o~

As Sara walked down the corridor toward the work garage, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had something to do. Mentally she went through a list of things that she had to accomplish that day. She had gone to the library, the plant store, and she had paid her rent. It wasn't time to pay the utilities, but still something tugged at her subconscious. She pushed open the heavy, metal door that led to the garage, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the evil looking angel once again.

"Does it scare you?" Nick whispered in her ear.

Sara looked at him annoyed. "Why would it scare me?" she asked, turning to open the toolbox nearest the door.

When she lifted the lid she caught her reflection in the mirror that was fixed to it. She couldn't help but realize how exhausted she looked. The bags under her eyes had grown darker and her hair appeared limp, Over her shoulder she eyed the ominous angel; somehow it looked different. She gave her head a shake and opened her eyes wider. The fingers that had been covering the face of the statue were now split apart and an eerie chiseled eye peeked through the space. Quickly she dismissed the thought and turned.

"Why on earth did they haul this here?" She asked, sizing up the figure and snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "And who brought it in?"

Nick looked around for a clipboard, located it on the hood of the truck, and read the log. "Some new guys," he said. "Don't recognize the names."

"Well someone needs to tell them that when they bring evidence in they need to check in with the shift supervisor," Sara commented, lining up jars of finger print powder and clean ten-cards.

Nick looked around. "But their stuff is still here," he commented, kicking a pile of bungee cords.

Sara wrinkled her forehead. "How do four grown disappear from inside a sealed vault without being caught on camera?" she asked, more to herself.

Nick shrugged. "How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie-roll center of a tootsie pop?" he jested. "The world may never know."

"Actually," Grissom said as he entered the room. "That is a question without a solid answer as people have different sized tongues and thus more or less saliva contributions," he stopped to examine the row of different powders that Sara had set out. "One person's answer will never be the same as the other."

Sara turned back to her work. She poured a small amount of black powder onto a clean sheet of paper, dipped her brush into it, and began to swirl it onto the concrete. It wasn't the first time her supervisor had interrupted with another meaningless statistic.

"We may want to fume this," he said as he came to stand beside her. "Concrete is mostly porous. It'll be difficult to get a print."

Sara was annoyed that he was looking over her shoulder and critiquing her work. She knew what was and what was not doable, and she did not need his input. Still she nodded her head in agreement and continued to mover hand in a swirling motion.

"Can I talk to you in my office?" he asked her.

Sara did not turn to acknowledge him. "You know what? Not feeling it," she said, dipping her brush back onto the paper.

Grissom looked over at Nick, who appeared to be busy. He leaned in closer to Sara to whisper into her ear, a move that both annoyed and angered her.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

Without breaking her concentration she replied curtly. "I don't need this right now," she whispered back without turning away. "I have work to do."

Sighing Grissom turned to see Nick staring at him. "What?" he asked, leaving the room.

After he had gone, Nick chuckled. "What was that about?" he asked.

Sara dropped the brush on the table. "I parked in his spot," she said, snapping off her gloves. "Have Bob come do this. I'm going home."

~00~

Cooking breakfast for yourself when you were single, or newly single, was almost as appealing as being in a live action version _Saving Private Ryan._ On days when she was depressed, Sara made it a routine to visit a small sandwich shop and order breakfast to go.

As she walked across the parking lot she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Instead of turning to look behind her, she her quickened her pace. Inside the place was packed and she took a seat at a table facing the window to wait on the line to dwindle.

Out of corner of her she saw a new individual enter. Without turning her head, she swiveled her eyes until the character was in her line of sight. The man looked nonthreatening, but he was out of place. He wore an outdated coat and under his chin she caught a glimpse of a bow tie. His hair was shaggy and he had the sharpest chin she had ever seen. To her he looked like the cosplay of Bill Nye or a displaced history teacher.

He looked in her direction and she quickly looked down, avoiding his eye contact. Instead of taking his place in line or finding a seat, he made his way over to her. Sara stirred uncomfortably in her chair. Talking to strangers was not her strong suit, especially if they looked museum tour guides.

"Excuse, me," he said in a heavy English accent. "Am I in Las Vegas?"

Sara pursed her lips and nodded. "I'm afraid so," she said sarcastically.

The man clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Las Vegas," he said with a hint of pure excitement in his voice. "Of all the places I've been I am finally stopping at the most interesting city in The United States!" he took a seat beside her excitedly. "Can you tell me how many Elvis get-ups you see on average?"

Sara scooted back in her seat as far as she could. "Can I…. get you a map or something?" she asked, wishing he would leave her alone.

"Actually," he said, leaning into her and lowering his voice. "I need you to come with me right away,"

Sara grimaced and held up her hand in a protective stance. "I am not that kind of a woman, but if you're looking to buy a good time I would go look on the strip," she said. "I hear the girls give discounts when it's early."

The man pulled back and wrinkled his nose at her. "What… no," he said. "For God's sakes you just gave me nightmares."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Who exactly are you?"

The scruffy man rummaged in his coat. "Right, that's rude of me I didn't introduce myself," he pulled out an ID wallet and held it out to her. "This is who I am?"

Sara stared at the credentials. "Health inspection?" she asked skeptically.

The man replaced the ID back quickly. "That's right I'm with the Health department," he said. "There is some rotten cabbage floating around and I am to get to the bottom of this."

Sara raised her eyebrows and gave his outfit a once over. "You don't look like a health inspector," she said.

"I'm incognito," the man said. "Don't want them to stash the cabbage."

It was hard to tell if it was his personality that was comical or if he was being spastic on purpose. He had a demeanor that was serious, but wired at the same time. She wasn't sure how a person could balance the two moods and not have a psychotic break. Then again, this man could be in the midst of one.

"You know what," Sara said, standing and grabbing her purse. "You stay. I'll go."

As she passed the man stood quickly to block her retreat. "Angels!" he said quickly. "You-saw-the-angel-and-you-need-to-take-me-to-it-this-is-a-life-or-death-situation."

Sara blinked at him and shook her head. The last words that he had spoken sounded like one long indistinctive word, but she was sure that she had been able to catch the general idea. She put her hand under her jacket and touched the cool steel of the gun she had there. Did this strange person know something about the case?

"Let's not get hasty," he said to her as if she were a rabid mastiff. "Remember guns don't kill people. People kill people."

"How do you know all of that?" she asked, trying to move past him.

"You need to come with me," he said again, more seriously.

"Why do you think I would do something like that?" she asked, looking around the room to see if anyone was aware of her situation.

The man looked skeptically around the room. "Because …I too have a gun," he said, loudly and unconvincingly. "I'm a mad man. You need to stop me!"

After his last sentence he turned, coat tail floating up behind him, and flew out the door. Pulling out her phone Sara followed him. As she ran through the parking lot, she kept him in eye sight. Surprisingly he was quick and nimble. He skirted over the hood of a car on his backside like he was a stunt double, causing the alarm to sound.

"Sorry!" he called as he ran.

"This is CSI Sidle," she said when the phone connected. "I have a potential threat running through parking lots on the corner of first and third," she stopped to gulp down air. "I believe he is armed."

The man turned into an ally and Sara stopped. She wasn't the one to follow an armed assailant into a dark ally in Las Vegas, but her curiosity go the better of her. Who was this man? How did he know about the angel? Was he a witness?

She stepped cautiously around the corner and peered around the brick wall. There was nothing there but empty trash bins and a pile of wooden pallets. Just then she saw darkness and a scrawny pair of arms wrapped themselves around her. She kicked out violently and screamed. She heard that when you died your life flashed before your eyes. The possibility of being murdered in a dark alley by a man in a bow tie wasn't the way she wanted to go.

"This is quite new for me," the man said as they struggled. "I've never nabbed someone before."

Sara leaned forward and felt the man lift off the ground. Her screams were muffled by the bag, or blanket, or whatever the man had dropped over her. She fought wildly, but the harder she fought the tighter his grip became.

"I just want to apologize for this," the man said as Sara rammed their bodies into a wall. "but I need your help and…. you wouldn't have believed me …. Maybe this wasn't the best idea."

Somehow, whether it was from exhaustion or weakness, the man overpowered her and began to drag her backwards. Still fighting, she swung out her arm until it connected with his jaw.

"Ow!" the man cried out. "That's really quite painful," he stopped and panted. "You really need to cut dairy out of your diet. You're rather weighty."

Somehow she broke free from his grasp, quickly picked a direction, and bolted. She realized that she had chosen the wrong direction when her forehead collided with a wall. She felt herself fall backwards and her world grew darker as she slipped into unconsciousness.

The man was bent at the knees and was gasping for breath. "That wasn't too hard," he said,


	2. Chapter 2

At first the pain was dull, but as Sara felt herself drift closer to reality her head began to pound. It felt like she had been beaten by a tiny army of small bat wielding trolls, and not the ones with bejeweled bellies. She groaned, reached out to the bedside table, and light flooded her room as she clicked her lamp on. Slowly, she brought her hand to her forehead and felt that someone had carefully applied two bandages in a crisscross pattern.

A loud rattle of pans from the kitchen jogged her memory and she remembered the man from the sandwich shop. She had followed him into an alley, which now in hindsight seemed like a mistake, and he had apprehended her. Quickly she sat up, slid her hand under the bed, and let her fingers wrap around the cold metal of a baseball bat. She kept the bat under her bed so that she had a way to flip off the overhead light without getting up. She never assumed she would have to use it on someone.

"I hope you don't mind if I use your cookery!" the man called, with no hesitation, from the kitchen. "I was really craving a cuppa tea!"

"_Fantastic_," Sara thought. "_A mentally unstable English health inspector is making tea in my kitchen._"

She stole quickly to her bedroom door, grasped the knob, took a deep breath, and flung it open. The man, his shaggy hair brushed back, was looking through her cabinets. Plates were stacked up on the counter, noodles were piled everywhere, and the carton of milk was set out.

"You have Twinkies!" he said, emerging from the cabinet holding a box of her beloved deserts. He stuffed one into his mouth and then, with a mouth full of Twinkie, said. "So simple and yet so wonderful!"

It seemed as if her standing in the middle of her living room, wielding a weapon, had no effect on him. He simply ducked into the cabinets again and continued to rummage through her belongings.

"Who are you?" Sara demanded, raising the bat as if she were going to hit an imaginary curve ball.

"Oh I am so sorry," he said, coming around the bar and extending a hand to her. "I'm The Doctor."

When she did not accept his outstretched hand, he gave her a thumbs-up and went back to his rummaging. Ordinarily if a strange man were in your home when you woke up, then you would immediately spray him in the face with mace and call the police. For some unknown reason, Sara felt herself relax and she lowered the bat a little.

"The Doctor?" she asked.

"I can't seem to find your tea cups," The Doctor said, not responding to her question. "I guess these will do."

He appeared holding two coffee mugs and with a crocked smiled he poured hot water into both cups. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that she was tired or that she was finally losing her mind, but tea actually sounded good. Keeping the bat at-the-ready, she reached out and took the mug that he had extended to her.

"How did you get into my apartment?" She demanded.

He took a seat at one of her bar stools and Sara inched away from him. He took her house keys off the table and dangled them.

"You had the keys to your flat in your purse," he said. "Your identification told me where you lived."

Sara was still confused. "Why would a health inspector be interested in where I live?" she asked, raising her bat once again. "And you still haven't told me what you are doing here."

The Doctor looked at her seriously. "You have the angel," he said. "I need to find out what it wants here and figure out a way to get it out off Las Vegas."

"The… angel," Sara repeated. "The statue that is now in police custody?"

The Doctor shook his head. "But it isn't a statue," he said. "It's a life form from a place beyond this one. I know this is very incredible, but you have to consider this. I need your help."

Sara felt her mouth drop open and the bat slid from her hands and clattered to the floor. She was now convinced that she was sitting across from an escape patient from Desert State Hospital.

The Doctor dug his hand into his deep jacket pocket and pulled out a long, metal instrument. At first, Sara was afraid that he was going to try and hit her with it. She was still confused as to why she hadn't brained this man from behind, but she stood rooted to the spot.

He pointed the device at her stove, pressed a button, and a high pitched sound omitted from it. The tip of the device lit up green and there was a small readout that showed red numbers. Her stove, which had been on, switched off without the dial being turned.

"This is my sonic screw driver," he said, raising it up for her to see. "And the credentials you read where what your mind wanted you to see."

He opened his jacket and pulled out his small, brown wallet. "What did you have for supper yesterday?" he asked as he held the paper out for her to see.

Sara hesitated for a moment. "Egg salad sandwich, tomato soup, and a Twinkie," she read.

"It's called Physic Paper," he said, returning it to his jacket. "It reflects what the reader is thinking."

The surprising thing to her was that the paper read exactly what she had eaten the night before. The back of her legs began to shake and she backed up until her calves touched the couch. She sank down into the sofa and let The Doctor's words sink in.

"Am I in a coma?" she asked.

The Doctor set his mug down. "I can assure you that your health is just fine," he said. "But you need to take me to the angel."

Sara shook her head." I can't just walk into the crime lab and let you see it," she explained. "It's evidence!"

The Doctor grew more serious. "Look, the angels feed off of energy," he explained. "and that is one thing your city has an abundance of. So unless you want to be working triple shifts for the next million years to figure out where your residents went, then I suggest you take me to it."

Sara, now calmer than she had been before, leaned closer to look him in the eye. "Who are you?" she asked, challenging his demeanor.

"I'm The Doctor," he said again, but then he added. "One of the last Time Lords from Galifrey. And I am asking for your help."

What he was saying was impossible, but she was a scientist. He had shown her a few incredible things right now that she couldn't explain. She looked into his eyes and she felt a trusting pull.

"Okay," she said.

~0~

Getting The Doctor past reception wasn't as hard as Sara had feared. He simply flashed his physic paper and recited a line about being a professor from a university abroad. She backed up his story with a smile, while keeping an eye out for Grissom. Soon he was granted a visitor's pass and Sara led him towards the work garage,

"We meet again," The Doctor said when he saw the angel. "What are you doing in this world?"

The ominous angel did not reply, but somehow it's blank, marble eyes sent chills down her spine. It was as if it was responding to The Doctor with hate and anger. There was something insidious about it; as if it were laying in wait.

The Doctor approached the angel, keeping far enough proximity, and pointed two fingers towards it's eyes. Sara wrinkled her forehead, wondering if bringing him here was the right choice. He used his two fingers to follow the angel's line-of-sight and then smiled with satisfaction.

"It is time locking itself," he said with fascination.

To say that she was concerned about his actions was an understatement. With her head half-cocked to the side she came to stand beside him.

"Come again?" she said.

The Doctor pointed to the mirror. "It's looking at its self… It can't move," he said, smiling cautiously. "We need to get it out of here somehow."

Sara held up her hands. "We can't just wheel it out, "she said. "It's a piece of potential evidence in a missing person's case. You're going to have to think of something else."

The Doctor looked at her. "And what do you propose," he said. "Let it wreck havoc!"

Sara glared at him. "You know, I really don't appreciate your tone with me," she said.

The Doctor scratched his head. "Your people skills need some serious work," he said. "That isn't how people make friends."

Sara turned away from him. "I don't need any," she remarked.

The sureness of her statement concerned The Doctor and for a moment he watched her. Did she really think her life was better without people to share it with? Of all people, he knew how lonely time could be without somebody. He wanted to tell her that, but something told him that she needed to see it for herself.

"Hey Sara," they heard Nick's smooth, Texan voice say behind them. "Who is this?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" The Doctor said happily as he patted his pockets.

He pulled out his physic paper, held it up to Nick, and smiled. Nick leaned in for a closer look and scratched his chin.

"Animal trainer?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor returned the wallet to his pocket and, without missing a beat, he nodded his head. It appeared that he hadn't been fazed by Nick's reading of the paper.

"Yes," The Doctor sad. "There is a band of German Shepherds going through trash cans all over the city and it's become a huge problem. We figured a good training is what they need ."

Nick stepped back. "You know… I really don't see how we can help with that," he said, and then he added with a smile. "But good luck."

Then he turned to Sara. "Have you seen Bob?" he asked.

Sara pursed her lips and gave her head a shake. "No," she answered.

Nick motioned to the angel. "He was supposed to dust this thing and no one has heard from him," he said.

Sara wrinkled her forehead. "Have you paged him?" she asked.

Nick nodded and then looked at the angel that towered above him. "It's like this thing is cursed," he joked.

~0~

_Sara stood at the appointed starting line with the other foster children and waited for Jessica to turn, which would signal the beginning of the game. Soon, Jessica turned and the other children began to walk softly through the grass. With a sigh, Sara fell into step with the others. _

_Quickly, Jessica turned and everyone froze in place. Sara saw Jessica's blue eyes scan the other children and slowly she turned back around. Just then, she felt a surge of adrenaline flow through her and she felt a pang of excitement to be part of the game. The excitement was quickly replaced by guilt and she wondered if she should have happiness with everything that had happened to her lately. After all, her father was dead and here she was having fun. _

_When Jessica turned back around, her braid flying behind her, Sara stopped with the rest of the children. She stifled a giggle and balanced, one foot in the air. She felt her small legs shaking and she prayed that Jessica would turn around soon. _

"_You moved!" Jessica shouted to a sandy haired boy. _

_The boy groaned and reluctantly went back to the starting line. In a way, Sara wondered how different from reality this was. In reality, if you fell in life then you lost. Had her mother lost that night ? How did one win? Was there a winner?_

_~0~_

"I just can't bring you to the vault," Sara explained as she led The Doctor down the halls and towards the exit. "It's a crime scene."

"I know it seems too inconceivable," he pleaded to her. "but it is important to you and this entire city that I figure out how this angel got here. Someone is behind this."

Sara stopped and turned to face him. "It isn't that I don't want to," she said. "I can't. I'll get fired. You can't fix that with your magic paper."

"Physic," he corrected.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't magically hand out employment opportunities," she said. " I have to get you out of here before my supervisor gets here."

"Older man… beard… is holding a folder?" The Doctor asked.

Sara was curious. "Yeah," she said.

The Doctor pointed. "Looks like he wants to have a word with you," he said, nodding past her shoulder.

Sara looked in the direction he was nodding, and sure enough Grissom was standing there. He looked like he wanted to talk and she was not in the mood to talk. She wasn't in the mood for anything lately.

"He's fine," she said, turning on her heel.

"Sara!" Grissom called.

"You know," The Doctor said. "He seems pretty mad… okay and now we're stopping."

Sara had stopped in the middle of his sentence, turned, and waited on Grissom to approach them. He gave The Doctor a glance and he attempted to pull Sara to the side.

"I have to go back to the scene," Sara lied, pulling back and attempting to walk away.

"Who is he?" Grissom asked.

"The Doctor," Sara replied shortly.

Grissom wrinkled his forehead. "Docto who?" he asked.

Sara shrugged. "He just likes to be called 'The Doctor'," she replied.

He swiveled his eyes to the man who was standing, hands on hips, watching everyone work through the glass walls. He looked as if he was an overseer, making sure each task was being performed to the best of each worker's capabilities.

"I don't like him," Grissom said. "He's weird."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Well that's the pot calling the kettle black," she commented. "How has your roach racing been?"

Grissom waved the question away. "Look we have to talk about this," he said. " I didn't mean that-."

Sara backed away. "I can't do this," she said. "I have work to do."

~0~

**Hey guys. SOOOO sorry about the delay. I want to get this done right and I underestimated how the different genres and characters would have to flow. Plus, I am running out of music muse. Salt'N'Peppa aint doing it. Review and pass me a few suggestions. Thanks for your love – Katyrye ( Like CSI? … visit my other stories.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Dear Readers, **

**I notice that this story is somewhat popular, but I can't judge your feelings on it unless you provide feedback. If you have time, please submit any comments regarding this story. **

**~8~**

* * *

Sara had relented and soon she found herself caught in a traffic jam. Taking The Doctor to see the vault was something that Ecklie would be hot-under-the-collar about if he knew. But then again, she knew she wasn't his favorite person.

"Why can't we take your spaceship?" she asked the man seated beside her.

"It isn't a spaceship," The Doctor replied, rolling his eyes at her. " it is a _T.A.R.D.I.S. _It means Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."

"Oh, sorry," she replied in a patronizing tone. "So, tell me about these statues."

"They're not statues, they are Aliens. They're Weeping Angels," he corrected. "Honestly it's like you don't care."

Sara shrugged. "Well, I don't," she said.

The cars ahead inched forward, only to stop again abruptly. She thumped her fist on the steering wheel and willed herself not to let loose a slur of profanity. Beside her The Doctor was busy playing with the buttons that controlled the power windows.

"Stop!" Sara breathed.

The Doctor returned his hands to lap, but soon he was going through her glove compartment.

"If just _one_ of those creatures get out then your city is doomed," he explained as he dug. "They'll have an all-you-can-eat buffet!"

Sara rubbed her temple. "And how will they do that?" she asked, growing tired. "They can't exactly conceal a weapon."

"I wouldn't say they kill people per say," he explained. "How they stay alive is by consuming a person's energy. They kill you by _not_ killing you, but stealing the energy from the life you _could_ be living," he stopped and noticed the confused look on Sara's face. "They send you to another time."

"Time travel… aliens… magic paper… magic stick," she thumped her head on the steering wheel and the horn beeped. "I can't take all of this. Why me?" she looked up at the sky. "Why me, God?"

"I picked up a broadcast you sent out about the angel," he told her. "You made a joke about how unnerving it was and that was when I knew."

"Why is it an angel?" she asked. "Why can't it just come to life at anytime and just wipe us out?"

"Because they're quantum-locked," he explained. "It's only when your energy is not directed at them that they can move. The mirrors that you had trained on it made it possible for the angel to lock itself."

Sara reached over, pulled a bottle of Aspirin out of the glove compartment, and popped the child-safety cap. She shook two into her mouth, dry swallowed, and threw the bottle into the backseat.

"I guess I got lucky," she said.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "I guess you did," he said.

He gave her a smile and, for a moment, Sara felt her guard lower. There was something about him that was nonthreatening and friendly. Not that she was attracted to him, but he had a magnetic soul. His eyes were warm and few people had been able to ease her anxieties in her life.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked her.

Sara shrugged. "It depends," she replied.

"Are you and your supervisor-" he started.

"Oh God!" Sara said turning away from him.

The Doctor held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I just want to let you know that if you're trying to hide it, it isn't working," he said. "It's pretty obvious."

"I'm done talking to you," Sara said, turning on the radio.

~8~

"Stay next to me," Sara instructed the doctor. "And for the love of God don't touch anything."

Sara nodded to the patrolman who was posted outside the vault, and The Doctor flipped open his psychic paper. She was amused that he was waved through without a question. When they were inside he slipped his hands into his pockets and walked around the room.

"Mirrored walls," he commented, pointing to the mirror. "Whoever rents this vault knew to do that."

The Doctor straightened his bow tie and turned to gaze at the other artifacts. There were other things, like vases and statues, that hadn't been removed. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and attempted to pick up a vase.

"Don't!" Sara ordered.

"I have a handkerchief," he said as he waved it at her.

"With alien snot on it," she pointed out. "Don't touch."

He returned the cloth to his pocket and proceeded to walk around the room, pausing to get on his hands and knees to peer into the floor vent. Sara wondered if he thought he was going to find the sandworm from _Beetlejuice_ in it.

"Is there a light switch in this room?" he asked, looking up at her.

"It's outside the door," she replied, motioning behind her.

He rose to his feet, walked around her, and studied the light switch panel. "Can you check this?" he asked. "If the light was turned on from the outside, then these men were murdered. You may have a real case on you hands."

Sara set down her kit. "Sure," she sighed. "Gotta stop those aliens, right Will Smith?"

"The Men in Black are _not _a joke," he scolded.

Sara selected silver magnetic powder, tapped it out onto a piece of paper, and dipped her brush in. She brought her wrist up to the wall and began to move her hand in a circular motion.

"Ah," The Doctor said, looking over her shoulder. "You're looking for fingermarks. How old fashioned!"

"Fingerprints," Sara corrected. "And this is a very advanced science. I'm not sure how they do things on Planet X-"

"Galifrey," he corrected.

"Galifrey," she corrected herself. "But this is an art to is advancing as we speak."

"Scotland Yard calls them fingermarks," he explained.

She gave him a nod and returned to her work. Beside her, he was busy lifting various containers out of her kit and holding them up to inspect the contents.

"I feel like there needs to be some funky background music playing while you do that," he said. "Like a tube show,"

Sara shook her head. "There are way too many crime dramas in the world."

As she worked, Sara found herself brooding. Despite everything this man told has told and shown her, she found it impossible that an angry clan of alien concrete angels could, with one touch, send a person back in time.

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**~8~**

**Hey guys, I am sorry this is a little short but I am so tired. I need to write more on it by tomorrow. Hold me accountable. Love you and review. This story is one-of-a-kind so, please love it. Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dear Readers, **

**I am so glad to be working on this once again. Though a little difficult to work on, it is fun! I appreciate all of your reviews- they encourage me. So, if you have time please, submit a review.**

* * *

~8~

The owner of the vault was a person named David Gross. Though he had been interviewed earlier by Brass, Sara asked that he be brought in a second time. The Captain was hesitant, but Sara cashed in all of her favors and he relented. Now, Gross was sitting across from her. The Doctor was behind the two-way mirror and Sara hoped he wasn't turning knobs or going through paper work.

Gross, in Sara's opinion, looked like a slime ball. He was wearing cheap cologne, too much of it, and had on an obviously fake Rolex. He eyed her with a look that expressed his anger at being brought in again. She ignored his gaze as she opened her file. They had no factual evidence to hold him on. The only thing she had was The Doctor's hunches, which oddly she was trusting.

"So, your guards just left the vault on their watch," Sara commented as more of an observation than a question. "No note or anything; just pulled a Houdini."

Gross nodded and shrugged. "Can't find good help these days," he sighed, sending the odor of his oniony breath her way. "What can you do?"

Sara leaned forward a little. "Funny," she said, sliding the guards' employment record in front of him. "They have been with you a long time. If they weren't so reliable, why did you keep them around for so long?"

Once again, Gross shrugged. "I guess people change," he commented, attempting to stand. "Can I go?"

Sara held up a hand. "Not so fast," she said boldly. "What is this angel?"

This made Gross return to his seat and he looked to the two-way mirror. "He's here, isn't he?" he asked her, in an eerily excited voice.

"Who?" Sara asked, growing tired of the science fiction game.

"The _Doctor_," Gross said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'doctor'. "The last time lord of Gallifrey. The person who inspired legends and art. He is beyond what we can comprehend."

Sara rubbed her temple. "If you knew what the angel could do, then that was murder," she said. "You left these men in there to die!"

"I have been looking all over for those angels," Gross pointed out. "Finally, found a collector in Manhattan."

Sara chewed the inside of her lip, a habit that she had been trying to break. "What did you do?" she asked angrily. "Wait until no one was around and flip out the lights? Leaving these men to defend themselves against something that they couldn't fight. You aren't going to get away with this."

Gross looked her straight in the eye. "And who are you going to tell?" he challenged. "Captain Brass? They'll put you on leave and send you to the department shrink."

Sara was beyond angry. She was in the midst of cheesy sci-fi plot with a tea drinking time traveler. Her love life was laying dead in a ditch, she needed a vacation, and she was debating the existence of alien stone figures that zapped your energy, sending you to live in another time.

Gross stood and smoothed his button-down shirt. "I can leave now, right?" he asked, not asking her permission. "And I wouldn't poke your nose too far into this."

~8~

_Somehow, to Sara's surprise, she had gotten selected to play The Grandmother. It was odd having her housemates' eyes on her, but she forced herself to walk ahead of everyone and stand in front. She looked at the other children for a beat, studying their eyes and wondering what had happened to each one. Did any of the others wake up to same horror she had? _

_Slowly she turned around, facing opposite the children, and she heard their small, stealthy feet move through the grass. The back of her neck tickled with the anticipation of someone reaching out to touch her. _

_Quickly she turned and let her eyes scan over the children. She doubted her ability to be able to spot transgressors as easily as the other children were able to. Soon she turned around again, but turned back around quickly in hopes of surprising someone. _

_It worked. _

"_I saw you," Sara pointed and laughed, exposing the small gap between her teeth that she had always been so self-conscious about. _

_She turned again, but this time with more excitement. She was having fun and she didn't feel guilty about. _

~8~

On the other side of the two-way mirror, in the dark observation room, The Doctor stood watching Sara's interview. He found it terrifying that this man knew of him _and_ the angels. If this man, this Gross man, knew how dangerous the angels were, then he too was dangerous.

And he had said _those,_ not _that_.

Did this man have more than one?

He was thankful to have Sara to help, but she seemed like the type of woman to never believe him. She was different from the other people that he had been acquainted with in his journeys; she was distant and unattached.

Still, she was kind but it seemed that her trust was something you earned. There was pain behind her eyes. She thought no one could see it, but he could. He had seen so many different souls that he could see the pain; maybe better than most.

~8~

Sara knew that she couldn't keep Gross in custody. He had been right, she would be forced to take a vacation, and then put into a room with padded walls if she mentioned the angels, or The Doctor, to anyone. It seemed as if The Doctor was waiting for Gross to disappear. As soon as the suspect had vanished, The Doctor emerged from the observation room.

"Can you believe that guy?" he asked her. "what a wanker."

"Did you touch anything?" she asked.

"No… well… maybe… a little… yes, I touched everything," he stuttered. Then he leaned into her. "Okay, your boss looks mad," he said.

She started to turn, but before she could Grissom had taken her by the arm and was pulling her in the direction of his office. The Doctor waved to her, but Sara pointed her finger down in a 'stay there' gesture.

She knew he wouldn't. She'd find him in the kennel, petting the police dogs.

~8~

"What were all those questions about?" Grissom asked her.

They were alone in his office, but instead of the relaxing feeling that she should get from him, she felt anxious and irritated.

"Just this and that," Sara said, trying to open the door.

"Oh," he said with a nod. "We already questioned him. Brass told me you begged to have him brought in. Are you making this case personal somehow? Do I need to take you off it?"

"Why do you do this to me?" she asked. "If I decide to work a little harder on something, then you automatically think that I am making it personal."

"Because you do," he replied. "You stay here all day and then, when you do go home, you turn on the scanner."

Sara tried to open the door. "If you want me off," she said in a whisper. "Then, take me off."'

Grissom seemed to give up. "I won't take you off it," he said, taking his hand off the door. "Can I come by later?"

"Why?" Sara asked. "I may have plans."

"To water your plants?" Then, Grissom switched gears. "Or do you have plans with that other guy?"

Sara opened her eyes wide and did a double-take. "The Doctor?" she said, shaking her head. "I feel like a mother duck around him. Trust me, you do not have competition there."

Grissom separated two blinds on his mini-blinds and peeked out. "Why is he talking to everyone?" he asked. "He's acting like a schnauzer."

"He's not _that_ bad," Sara replied. "He's just… like a really big kid."

"Why is he here again?" he asked, letting the two blinds go with a _snap_.

Sara shook her head. "You wouldn't believe me," she said. "Let's just say he's from out-of-town; way… out-of-town."

She wished that he wouldn't ask too many questions, but she knew that he would eventually. She had never been able to keep things from him; he usually found out one way or another. Arguing with him wasn't something that she liked to do, but she felt that if she didn't retreat into herself from time-to-time, then she would explode. Sometimes too much outside stimulation wasn't a good thing.

"Can I come over tonight?" he asked again.

Sara shrugged. "I guess, Gil," she said. "Don't expect too much."

After she had left Grissom parted the blinds again. The man, who Sara had referred to as 'The Doctor', had fallen into step beside her; his demeanor was energetic. He wasn't too sure who The Doctor was. All he knew was that he didn't like him much.

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~8~

**Hey guys, I am trying to make a pretty decent dent in the story. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring; I had to put a little of the story in there. No, The Doctor will not hurt anyone. Google 'Weeping Angels" if you need more info. I love you all. Please pray, I am going on VACATION to Cambodia next week. I am nervous, but I will make Grissom proud and eat bugs. I am so excited to have a break! Review if you can. **


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